The Evil Plot Bunny
by SeptinaStar
Summary: On a not so typical day in potions, the class goes to the Forbidden Forest and something happens. Cause there wouldn't be a story if it didn't. Added 5 Chapters. Please, r and r. On hiatus.
1. The Mangy Mutt

Title: The Evil Plot Bunny.

Rated: G.

Disclaimer: If you think I actually own this, where is my money?

Author's Note: A. U. around PoA time. All this is relatively unnecessary but I wanted to bore you. No, really. You don't need to know anything more that that first statement of it a. u. ness. Anyway, this bases itself differently in that the 'feud' between Snape and Black wasn't quite as intense. James did save Severus, but from Lord Voldemort. So, the professor did not find out about Remus' "condition" until Headmaster Dumbledore let the staff know. And, just for my own personal kick, he's a she. Though rumors run rampant, no one really knows that for sure save Dumbledore. So, she'll be called or thought of as a he by most of the student body. Heck, Sev even thinks of herself in those terms. If this is confusing, let me know.

Oh, and its in its second, edited state. Happy Readings! And even if you don't get it, please review. sending my niece's puppy dog eyes your way (Don't you feel compelled to review now? She's good at that.)

It was generally agreed among the student body of Hogwarts that the class most reviled was Professor Snape's potions, unless you were in Slytherin house. Only in that dubious house was one sure to get his honest opinion, if the teacher even knew what that was. Nevertheless, they knew they had to attend.

And so, they were on their way down to the dungeons for the most dreaded class of their lives. So, it surprised them to see Professor Snape making his way towards them, an unhappy look on his face. Then again, the students had rarely seen him look any other way, so they wouldn't have been able to tell the difference.

Seeing the professor walking towards them, they couldn't decide what was going on.

"Class, follow me. We are going to the Forbidden Forest to pick out rare potions ingredients. Stay close, because if you get lost, I have no intention of going after you," his face twisted into a semblance of a smile. "I'm sure you'll find it a most satisfactory new home."

This was said mainly to the Gryffindors.

It was half-way through the class when Draco Malfoy called out, "Professor Snape, there's something you should see."

"Very well," he rose and brushed off his hands. "Don't touch anything, that goes doubly for you, Longbottom." Making his way over to Draco, he let his gaze follow the pointing finger.

On the forest ground, a big, black dog lay ensnared in a bear trap. It was obvious from the exposed bone that he'd been trying to free himself from the trap for a few days. The foul stench of infection twitched the professor's sensitive nose, making her wish, not for the first time, that it wasn't so large.

"POTTER!" she barked out. "Go get Hagrid, Granger, accompany him. Weasley, get a medium length stick, no more than two fingers thick. Crabbe, Goyle, see these clips? When I give the word, you will twist them. Well? Why are you all still standing around?"

She didn't bother to see if they obeyed the orders, kneeling beside the fevered animal, her sensitive hand reached out and stroked the animal lovingly. Though the beast shied from the touch at first, he relaxed under the constant, reassuring pressure.

"Here, will this do?" Ron asked, panting a bit.

Severus glanced at it, accepting it. "Crabbe. Goyle." The two young men looked at her, nodding that they were ready. "Longbottom, hold the mutt's head in place. I trust you can do that without damaging it?"

The boy nodded nervously and sat down, stroking the head and whispering.

She waited for a moment and, when nothing happened, continued to bark out orders to the class. "Parkinson, in my pack is a medical kit, remove it and take out the vial marked cure all. Then remove the caldron and pass it to Zabini. You will get some water for it, which will go over the fire that Patil and Bulstrode will start. Into this water, put in a few drops of the potion. No more than six or seven."

"You wanted to see me?" Hagrid said, stopping at the sight. Around him, the students were either following orders or staying out of the way. He wondered which sight startled him more, the wounded dog.

Or the fact that the two houses not known for working well together were cooperating with each other.

"In a minute, I will hand you this wretched thing. I fear there may be more to be found in the area and you need to warn the inhabitants to watch for them. Though, Merlyn knows, I hope I'm wrong. Boys, we'll do this on the count of three. One. Two. Three!" Prying the jaws open, the trio worked the leg lose from the trap. "Pull the leg free, Longbottom!" She snapped through tight lips.

Once free, they let the trap spring shut. Severus followed the chain to where it had been locked into place. Using the wand, it was easy to sever the chain in half. "I believe that you shall need this." Passing it to Hagrid, the professor went to the caldron and tested it, nodding in satisfaction. "Brown, wet those strips in the hot water. Be very careful not to burn yourself. The rest of you are to finish gathering the ingredients."

Bending down, the potions master lifted the dog easily into her arms and made her way over to the shelter. "Longbottom, you bonded with the creature. Keep him still while I clean this wound."

"Why not use a potion, Professor?"

Severus glared, "Ms. Granger, surely you remember what you've read in those books you insist on toting around with you? If I were to be so idiotic as to give an animal a potion, it would not be when the creature in such a state of extremis. The potion would do no good and would, in fact, be detrimental to the health of the creature. Kindly remember that, it is elementary medi-witchery after all."

Flushing, she subsided and walked away. Shaking her head warningly at Harry and Ron's looks of outrage, she knew that they wanted to fight for her. "He's right. I did read that."

"Still, he could've been nicer about it."

"He's Snape, Ron. Don't expect any favors from him." Harry bitterly replied. The trio finished the work and, with the rest of the class, left the forest.

Professor Snape and Neville remained, working silently together. Finally, Severus drew back with a sigh. "That's the best I can do here. Go to class, Longbottom. Oh, here is an excuse, can't have a precious Gryffindor getting caught without one, can we?"

Neville took the pass and ran for it, never hearing the professor whisper, "five points to each student for their help."

Severus sighed, wondering what she was going to do with a dog. "Come on, you mangy mutt. Let's go to the castle. Unless you want to stay at Hagrid's with Fang?"

Author's End Note: End of the evil Plot Bunny that refused to leave me alone until I wrote this little piece of story. Actually, its one of my best pieces because it stays plotless. Hope you enjoyed it. And, if you more, you should probably do it yourself.


	2. What Am I To Do With You?

Author's Note & Thanks: ccbchunks and MoroTheWolfGod. Is this story going to become dramatic? I hope not. I'm not very good at sustaining drama. As for Sev being a girl…with the exception of Hermione, Ginny, Professor McGonagall, Pansy, and Millicent, everyone who has major roles in the books are men. It gets very annoying to have to type out Professor Snape, Snape, Severus, the potions professor, the greasy git, the dark haired teacher, et al all the time. So much easier to use a pronoun but when most everybody is male, that can be difficult, so that was ruled out unless I changed his gender. Which I felt completely comfortable with doing, so I did.

&&&

If one had looked out the Hogwarts window into the evening gloom, an odd sight would've met their gaze. However the students and faculty were engaged in dinner, so they missed the sight of Professor Snape carrying a bedraggled dog in a most drunken way.

Snape found it a relief. The last thing the teacher needed was to present a less than spectacular appearance to the student body. Slipping silently beyond the Slytherin dormitory, Severus paused at the office door.

Glancing in once, the head nodded in satisfaction. Everything was as it should be and the wards were fully engaged. One day, the house elves would be able to break the wards carefully constructed about the room. Not being a fool, Severus knew very well that many students tried to trick or use the house elves blind devotion to get them to do what they wanted them to.

Until that day, the potions master's office was sacrosanct.

Entering the office, the teacher put the dog down on the couch. Conjuring up a thick afghan and a warming charm, the shivering dog was wrapped in it. Straightening up, Severus went to the shelf and began to pull out various ingredients. Unfortunately, until the dog was less starved, a more effective potion would be impossible to help him heal.

Even the ones in the infirmary, less potent that they were, were too powerful for him. So, she had to create one out of what she had available.

Severus hated doing that. If there was one thing that dismayed her, it was making an inferior potion-no matter how necessary it was. In her mind, a weak potion meant that the potions maker was ineffectual.

Nevertheless, she was a healer and she would do what was necessary to insure the health of anyone who fell into her care. Even if it was a mangy cur from off the streets that would never be grateful for all the hard work like everyone else around here, she bitterly thought.

Soon, the heady scent of a potion brewing in the side potions room filled the office and the dog blearily blinked its dark eyes open. His leg gave off a spasm of pain and he relaxed his muscles, feeling it leave him alone after a time.

Once it was gone, he processed his situation. For a moment, he didn't know who or where he was but allowed himself to enjoy the rare feeling of security that enveloped him. Glancing about him idly, he blinked sleepily and burrowed into the welcoming warmth.

Then a sight froze his blood cold.

In the anteroom was a familiar person. He knew that body. That hair. That posture was unmistakable.

Without a doubt that was Severus Snape.

Eyes narrowing, a growl escaping from a tight throat, he watched the professor stiffen and glance his way. Putting aside the work for the moment, Severus walked towards him and bent down, hand outstretched. Weakly, he tried to bite the hand that came at him but his animal self was to starved for human affection that it did not listen to him.

Severus' eyes narrowed, though she did not relent in her careful ministrations. Rising, she walked to the fireplace and fire called down into the kitchens. "I need food suitable for a dog. Mind you, Glassy, the dog is _ill_. I want nothing that will aggravate his stomach and will be able to soak up the potions he needs to heal."

"Of course, Professor. Anything else you need?" the house elf asked. The voice was more dignified. More polished than any other house elf in the castle because of the peculiar way he'd been treated.

"No, there is nothing else I require," the stiff answer came with a reproachful look. Glassy may be a house elf from the Snape's ancestral home but that gave him no cause to think that he could dictate to the professor.

Glassy remained unmoved. Nothing the current Snape could say would sway him from his appointed duty. That duty seeing to it that the professor did nothing to damage the precarious health she'd always had. "Right. One meal for an ill dog and some tea with a sandwich for the professor coming right up."

"Glassy," Severus began but it was too late. The house elf had ended their call. "Dratted elf. Give them their freedom to be free of their encroaching care and they continue to help you as they see fit."

The dog said nothing, panting heavily. While Severus had been distracted, he'd tried to move and found that he was as weak as a dead leaf. His luck was definitely against him, he thought.

Severus went back into the anteroom and continued to work through Glassy's arrival. The house elf stood outside the office door and recognized the magic at work preventing him from entering. Shaking his large head, he did what he had to do to bypass the security and entered the room.

The dog growled in warning but this time, Severus did not respond. It wasn't that she wasn't aware of the sound; it was just that she wasn't concerned by it.

There were only two who could use their magic to enter this office-Glassy and the Headmaster. Besides, the potion was in its most delicate phase and would need all her attention to prevent sludge from forming.

Staring at the dog, the elf's head could only shake in wonderment of the predicament before him. Obviously, the animal had been in the forest for sometime if the smell was anything to go by. Going into a small room at the opposite end of the office, near the classroom, Glassy turned on the water.

Warmed to an acceptable level, he headed back into the main room. Distastefully, he hoisted the dog aloft and into the air, heading for the shower and dropping him under the warm spray. With firm hands, he scrubbed off the accumulated grime and dirt on the dog, taking care not to soak the bandages on the leg.

Once that was done, he turned off the water and moved back into the office. Severus had emerged from working and was sitting down, munching on the sandwich absently as she perused the work before her. Glassy hid a smile of satisfaction and began to feed the dog, watching it carefully.

There was something off about this beast, though he couldn't quite tell anyone what. It was more a feeling than anything else. After that had been accomplished, he turned to Severus and asked. "Will you be needing anything else?"

"No, thank you, Glassy," she dismissed the elf. "I can take it from here. Thank you for your assistance-and the sandwich."

"It was my pleasure," Glassy bowed and left.

Silence filled the room and the occupants sat in it. One tense with an incredible amount of pressure while the other read on in oblivion. Finally, the stress of the days caught up with him and the dog went to sleep.

The scratching sound of the quill sounded long into the night and when the clock chimed the midnight hour, Severus merely glanced up before resuming her work. It was only when the sixth sense of someone wandering about the school after hours that the quill was placed into the inkpot and the professor rose.

Brushing down the dark robe as she stood, Severus pocketed her wand and made her way out into the hall. She only paused once to make sure that the mutt was comfortable and asleep. Rewarding her door, she made her way to the source of the discomfort.

"Ah, Mister Potter, what are you doing here?" she drawled, shaking her head. Somehow, it was no surprise that the boy was about.

"Professor," he coldly greeted. "Detention with Mister Filtch."

"Do you honestly expect me to believe that our caretaker would release you after hours?" she silkily drawled. "Without a pass? He knows the rules and has respect for them-unlike some I could name."

The green eyes glared at him, then widened with fear. Without turning around, Severus knew that it what was there wouldn't be pleasant. Yet, the professor knew it had to be faced and turned with a sigh to see the dementor. Dark eyes narrowed, willing away any thoughts that might attract the boggart to her own fears.

Because this was not a real dementor. It couldn't be.

As coolly as she did anything, she withdrew her wand and pointed it at the dark form. An unknown word passed through the tight lips and the shape disappeared utterly. Nodding in satisfaction, Severus replaced her wand.

Harry blinked. "How did you do that?"

"That is none of your concern, Mr. Potter. Now, take yourself off to bed." Severus dismissed the student from mind, until the boy was nearly out of earshot. "Do not let this happen again. These halls are full of secrets and blind passages. If you were to run into another boggart, it would have the same effect on you that a true dementor would. You would lie in these halls for years before anyone found you."

"Greasy git," Harry muttered beneath his breath. "Yes, professor."

"And Potter?" she called. "I will check your story with Mr. Filtch. If you have lied to me, I will see you in detention-and suspended from Quidditch."

"You can't do that!" he protested.

"Are you forgetting who I am, Mr. Potter?" she bowed mockingly and watched him go.

"Severus, I haven't seen you all day. Join me for tea," Headmaster Dumbledore half asked from the shadows. "Harry will be safe. The ghosts will make sure of it."

It was not a request and the professor knew it. "As you wish, sir." She spoke through semi-clenched teeth. A 'discussion' with the Headmaster never turned out well for her.

&&&

So, any good?


	3. Severus, I have a Favor

Author's Note: My Albus is based on Richard Harris' Dumbledore. I prefer his rendering to the new actor's work. No offense against Michael Gambon or those who like him, but I can't accept him. The man didn't work for me. His costume was weird and what was with tying his beard? And I didn't like when he hit Ron's broken leg. I winced along with him and I can't see Albus doing that to any student. Hopefully, this won't put anyone off the story.

Author's Thanks: Dragonero and Purplereader, I'm glad you're both enjoying it. Uhm, since Albus knows the truth, Severus remains in the female tense. Hope that's not too confusing.

Severus followed Albus into his office, nodding at Fawkes. The bird bowed its regal head, acknowledging their presence before returning to its own grooming. "What is it, sir?"

"Sit down, child," he encouraged the professor, gesturing to the chair.

Grumbling, Severus sat down stiffly. Tea was offered and the dark head shook, internally wincing at the thought of the sweet tea the Headmaster preferred. "No, thank you."

"Where were you at dinner? I missed you," he nevertheless placed the drink in front of her, knowing she wouldn't refuse.

"One of my students found a dog in the forest. I was taking care of him with Hagrid's help, then we searched for any more traps," she replied, taking a sip. The sugar hit her system and she winced at the force of it. "Must you drink this drek?"

"It is our national drink," he mildly rebuked.

"This isn't tea, Headmaster, this is hot, brown sugar water." She replied, putting it to the side having done the polite thing and had a taste. Rising, she went to the sideboard and poured herself a fresh cup-without the additions that the Headmaster made. Adding a little honey, she returned to her seat and drank it slowly.

"You said there was an injured dog in the woods," he started and she nodded. "Any idea of where it came from?"

Shaking her head, Severus pondered what she had observed of the dog. "I would hazard a guess that the beast is magically, for how else did it end up in the forest? But other than that, I have no idea about what it is or where it came from."

"Perhaps I should take a look at him tomorrow," Albus mused.

"I would appreciate it. Now, what is it that you truly wished to see me about?"

Albus shook his head reproachfully. "Is it not possible that I wished to see you?"

"After midnight?" she queried. "Following my destruction of a boggart which somehow got loose in the school and nearly killed your precious Mister Potter?"

"We have many boggarts in the school, Severus," the headmaster reminded her smoothly.

"But none are stupid enough to wander the dungeons," she countered.

Albus nodded, "that is true. You have made it quite clear that they are not welcome."

"Headmaster, you know that I have done no such thing," she said, exasperated. "They sense what I am and stay away for fear of my unnaturalness."

"Peace, Severus, I meant it only as a joke."

"A very little one," she put the cup down on the arm of the chair and leaned forward. "Now, truth time, what is it that you wish of me?"

"Impatience always was your besetting sin, Severus. I wish that you would teach Harry something," he said.

"No." There wasn't even a pause as angry color flooded her cheeks. "You cannot be seriously asking me to do that."

"Severus, it is important."

The teacher was on her feet, pacing the room with long strides. "I don't care, Albus! What you suggest is insane! And I will not give that arrogant Potter a lighted match to use on the nitroglycerine that he thinks is his power. He would destroy us all."

For once, the blue eyes lacked his twinkle as he stared at the furious teacher. "Harry is not as incapable as you think, Severus."

"He is a _Potter_!"

"And an Evans," he countered somberly.

"I taught Lily nothing. She was a natural," she rejected his words.

"As such, it is his birthright-and your duty," he pressed.

"Duty be damned," she hissed, turning towards the door.

"Be that as it may, you will teach him."

Turning, she leveled a glare at him. "I most certainly will not."

"He will find his power, Severus," Albus reminded him. Rising to his feet, he placed a hand on the door and held it closed. "Must I remind you of everything you owe me?"

Severus stumbled backwards, eyes wide in a face full of fear. Right now, none of his authority was hidden behind a veil of gentle myopia. Breathing heavily, her head shook in numb denial. "That will not be necessary," she whispered.

"You will teach him," he reiterated. Numbly, she nodded her agreement. Instantly, the gentle man was back. "Brilliant. Get some rest, taking care of a dog places quite a burden of responsibility upon your shoulders."

"Yes, Headmaster." Walking out on deadened feet, she made one rotation about the grounds and went to her quarters, pausing once to speak with Filtch.

"Potter?" he asked, scratching his head as he thought about it.

A malevolent grin twisted Severus' thin face. "I caught him earlier, he said that he'd been with you in detention."

"Oh, that's right. He was here earlier, cleaning out a few of the closets."

"What did he do?"

"Madame Pince didn't tell me what but it must have been something awful. She practically spat fire when she turned him over to me. I let him go hours ago. Why? Did he do something else?" he asked gleefully.

"That is not your concern, Filtch," Severus frostily informed him. "Thank you for the information. I bid you and Mrs. Norris good night."

"No problem, professor." He watched the potions teacher make his way to his office and shook his head. "Oh, someone is in trouble, aren't they?"

Mrs. Norris meowed in agreement and they continued to do their rounds of the school.

Harry snuck into the dorm room and quietly passed the sleeping boys. Once at his bed, he made sure to check that Ron was resting. Even though he liked having a best friend, Ron could be quite nosy when he didn't want him to be.

Pulling back the covers, he pulled off his shoes. Getting up, he changed and got into bed. As angry as he was that Professor Snape had caught him out after hours, he couldn't help but wonder what he'd been doing.

Leaning back on the bed, he stared up at the ceiling. Thinking back, he remembered being dismissed and walking towards to the tower. Halfway up, he couldn't recall anything.

Except a weird siren sounding, an odd reverberation that echoed within his soul.

The next thing he knew, there was the dark professor, scolding him for being out after hours.

It figured. He blacked out and wandered around dazedly until Snape found him.

Knowing further thought was useless; he rolled over and went to sleep. At least tomorrow, he wouldn't have to see the potions master.

The Next Day.

"Harry, get up!" Ron shrieked into his ear.

As loud he was, Harry only rolled over and used his pillow as a shield from the annoyance.

The redhead Gryffindor yanked back the covers and shouted at Seamus. The young man responded with a chilled water charm directly over Harry's bed and the boy leapt up, glaring furiously. "What did you do that for?"

"You've overslept and Oliver's waiting. Be thankful we convinced him to let us get you," Ron replied smugly. "He was all fired up to get you and toss you out the window for missing your early morning Quidditch practice."

Green eyes widened as sleep was forsaken for panic. Leaping from the drenched bed, he quickly threw on his clothes. "Is he mad?"

Seamus snorted. "Is he mad? This is _Oliver__Wood_, remember? The man who eats, sleeps, and dreams Quidditch. And you blew him off to sleep. How do you think he's feeling?"

Ron handed him his shoes with a sympathetic smile when Harry groaned.

"**POTTER**!" a voice below bellowed.

"Cheer up, mate," Ron consoled. "As long as you do well against the Hufflepuffs, he should get over it."

"Sure he will," Seamus agreed, rolling his eyes at that statement. "And today, Snape will actually give Gryffindor points for something. Face it, you're doomed."

"We don't have Snape today," Ron reminded him.

"Like I said, you're doomed."


	4. EEK!

Author's Note: Do I think the following is possible? Most likely not, but this isn't canon book or canon movie Snape, though Snape **is** more like the movie one.

Headmaster Dumbledore knocked on the office door and opened it. Severus knelt on the floor, tending to the dog's open wounds. Albus winced in sympathy. That abrasion did not look healthy; though he was sure that his potions professor would do the best she could to save the limb.

The dog looked uncomfortable with the attention it received, which seemed odd since dogs were sociable creatures. So, the discomfort must be from his injury and being held in one place instead of being able to roam free. He must be reading more into the dog's tense posture than was truly there.

Although, upon closer study, he thought he saw something more than mere distress in the dog's eyes.

Something almost _human_.

No, it couldn't possibly be…really, the idea was unthinkable. It couldn't be him.

Could it?

The sound of his name being called repeatedly in a worried voice brought him from his thoughts. "I'm sorry, Severus. What is it?"

"That's just what I was asking you, Headmaster Dumbledore. Are you all right?"

"I'm fine, just sympathizing with the poor creature. How is his leg?"

Rising, Severus went to get some medicated bandages and knelt back down. Rewrapping the limb, the professor answered in an even tone. Having taken care of many patients, the professor knew that they read more in the tenor of voice than in the words.

Dog or not, she didn't want to worry him. "Much better than I was expecting after a night of medication-even if the dog does have magical roots. But there are some things about the injury that bother me. In a few days, I shall ask Madame Pomphrey to see him."

The dog jerked and started trembling at the words.

"Easy, boy," Severus soothed. Firm, almost melodically, she spoke and rubbed him until he stopped his shaking. "What in the name of Merlyn was that about? Do you think this dog understands what I am saying?"

Though he had some suspicions, Albus thought it best that he remain silent. For if he was wrong, an innocent life would be harmed. "I cannot say for I don't know much about this breed of dog."

And if he was right, an old grudge may just be healed.

"You? Admitting to ignorance of something? Now, that's a first," she muttered suspiciously. Something about the headmaster's attitude rang false to her. There was some mystery here that he wasn't going to let her in on.

"I am glad to hear that the dog is on the mend. You really should name him, you know," he suddenly said, deciding to ignore her comments.

"I'll take that into consideration," Severus replied, still wary of him. Brushing off her hands, she rose and replaced everything she'd used to tend the wounded creature.

"I have something to ask you to do," he started.

Severus groaned. "Fine."

"Just like that?"

"I have learned that it is useless to fight you. So, I'll do whatever you want." Severus was resigned-and unwilling to have a repeat of last night's performance. The memory still brought chills to her body.

"With no complaints?"

"I'm not promising miracles, sir." Albus laughed and told Severus what he wanted of his potions professor.

Defense Against the Dark Arts.

The "cursed" class was arguably the most favorite class for Harry and his Gryffindors-especially since Professor Lupin had come to teach. The windows were wide open, letting in the sunshine and they talked quietly amongst themselves, wondering when their professor would arrive.

Like an ill wind, a chilly air swept through the classroom and they shuddered, knowing an omen of bad happenings when they felt it.

Windows snapped closed as Professor Snape strode down the path in between the desks and turned to face them, an unpleasant look on the thin face that faced them.

In other words, the professor looked much the same as always. "Professor Lupin as you can see, is not here," the professor stated, glaring darkly at the class. "I am sure he will be missed. As I was not prepared to take over and have no desire to search through his belongings to find his lesson plans, we shall play a game of Wizarding Trivial Pursuit."

A stern look silenced any cheers that might've erupted from the news. If any had been bold enough to do so that is. "This is Professor Lupin's class, therefore, the magical charter dictates that I must follow the rules he established. While I will not favor any student here, beware when you are in my own. Do not press your luck."

Beetle black eyes glared at the class warningly, focusing on Potter, Granger, and Weasley a beat longer than the others. "The teams will be randomly chosen. Points will be rewarded or deducted from the team directly, regardless of house." Pointing to each student, they were assigned them a number from one to four and split them up into four teams.

While they gathered into their assigned groups-and wasn't it ironic that Harry and Draco found themselves on the same side? Professor Snape set up the six categories on large canvas flags. "Does anybody beside Miss. Granger have an inkling of an idea about how this game is played?"

No one moved, not knowing if it was a trick question or not. Finally, a Slytherin student raised her hand timidly.

"Well?" the professor snapped. "Do you have an response or are you merely stretching?"

"The teams are asked questions and they answer them until they miss one, then another team is given the question. If they answer it correctly, their turn begins. The game is won when one team gets all the tokens for all the categories and answers a question from a random category correctly."

"Succinct and correct. Five points to Slytherin," Severus murmured. "The categories will be: Potions. Defense Against the Dark Arts. Charms. Muggle Studies. Quidditch. I require that for those two categories answers must come from all and not just those raised among muggles and the Quidditch players. I want no complaints about it being unfair because certain teams have an advantage."

This was said as the professor looked directly at Draco and Harry's team, then over at the team Hermione and Seamus were on. "And our last category shall be Transfiguration."

Hermione raised her hand and waited, impatiently for the professor to call on her.

"What is it?" Snape snapped.

"How will we determine who goes first? Will we have team captains? If so, how do we decide who they are?"

"Captains," Severus repeated. "If you must have them, you must have them." With a sigh, the dark eyes studied them and picked four relatively neutral people to lead. "Team one will begin and will be followed by the second, on to the fourth. Is that clear? Or must I use words of two syllables to make myself understandable?"

As no one wanted to answer that, the game began.

Remus Lupin opened his eyes and looked around the infirmary blearily. The pounding in his head was relentless. Headmaster Dumbledore leaned over him slightly and he jumped, startled by the sight.

"And how are you?"

"Am I dead?" he asked.

"Not quite," the Headmaster smiled at him.

"Well, I should be," Remus croaked. Every muscle in his body ached with a pain that was new, yet old. The professor enjoyed a very intimate love/hate relationship with the wolfsbane potion. He loved the way it kept him from being a danger to others.

He hated the after effects of it, though he supposed he would acclimate to it soon enough.

"That good, huh?"

Remus stared at him for a moment, befuddled. "That's a joke, right?" he croaked.

"Not a very good one, I suppose." Albus sighed. "You and Severus are harsh critics."

"What?"

"Never mind, dear boy. Do you feel up to speaking?"

"Aren't I?" he asked, confused.

The Headmaster twinkled. "In a round about manner, yes."

"Why?" he sleepily questioned, closing his eyes briefly.

"Never mind, just sleep." Albus rose and walked out, worried about this reaction to the potion. It was new and he would need to inform Severus of it.


	5. What Was That?

Author's Note and Thanks: had to change the division symbols. This new program doesn't keep them for some reason. So, I hope that using numbers won't be annoying. If they do, I apologize even though there really isn't much I can do about it, unless someone knows how to do it and will share the secret.

MoroTheWolfGod, how's this?

Kyer, sorry about the headache, though I'm glad that you're enjoying it. Just one question, other than Albus, could you really see Severus allowing anyone to know about the gender switch even if it was the result of a spell or potion? I don't know but I think the way JK writes him is that he is a very private individual-even if he is wildly vocal about his hatred for all those in Gryffindor-and Potter most of all.

777

The dog on the bed woke once in the transition from the office to Snape's quarters. It was a smooth move made by the house elf he'd seen earlier. Glassy, wasn't it? He felt that he should be more concerned by this situation than he was.

But he really couldn't bring himself to care-especially when he felt the softness of the mattress beneath his aching body.

With gentle hands, the house elf wrapped him a soft blanket and proceeded to feed him some easy to digest food. Other than the faint trace of potions, the meal was filling and delicious to his starving body.

With a contented yawn, he curled up and went to sleep.

Glassy waited for a moment, then turned to the door and went out into the hall. After all, he had more work to perform than taking care of one sick dog. Right now, he needed to gather the dryad's tears for the potion his master would be working on.

Albus waited for a moment before entering the room. With a deliberately delicate touch, he tugged free some of the dog's fur and waited a heartbeat before he left. By tomorrow night, the headmaster would know everything about the animal from its parents to the last thing it ate after arriving at Hogwarts.

777

The dismissal bell rang and the students returned to their desks, gathering their books together, ready to leave. A clearing throat stopped them cold and they turned to face their substitute teacher, somewhat anxious to be gone.

Severus knew of their impatience and waited, drawing out the moment for as long as the teacher reasonably could. "Professor Lupin shall be back by your next class, I expect that you review what you were to learn today and be prepared for him. Mr. Potter, you will remain here."

Shaking his head at the curious looks Hermione and Ron gave him; he walked to the desk and waited for the professor to speak. Glancing up from the papers on the desk, Severus stared at Harry before breaking the silence to speak. The green eyes finally fell away from the intense study.

"You will no doubt be relieved to know that I have checked out your alibi," the voice sneered at the words, watching the boy flinch and smiled grimly. "Mr. Filtch assures me that he let you go in plenty of time to get to the Gryffindor Tower before curfew. So, what I have to ask you, Mr. Potter, is what exactly you were doing out after hours?"

Green eyes came up and stared evenly into the beetle black ones, defiance on his face. "I have no idea."

"You don't know? Tell me, Mr. Potter, should I really believe such a pathetic reason for your breaking the rules and being out after hours? Surely, the Great Harry Potter can think of a much better excuse than that," Severus taunted.

"It's not an excuse!" he exclaimed. "It's the truth. I don't _know_ what I was doing."

"Seeking to buoy up your impressive reputation more, perhaps?" the teacher pressed him, eyes hard as they held his. "May be find another hidden chamber? Or capture the escaped convict Sirius Black and prove that you are better than aurors at detaining convicts?"

"Following the sound of bells!" he shouted, unable to hold back the words.

His eyes widened as he saw the pale complexion of the professor go even paler. The sound of raspy breathing seemed to echo hollowly in the room. Even as the chair scraped back across the floor, one of the window shudders blew open and Severus stood in front of it, blankly staring at the ground below.

"Take a pass and leave, Mr. Potter," the voice was croaky sounding.

Harry shook his head in disbelief at the dismissal and the tone of voice. It just didn't seem real that this was his professor speaking. Part of him wanted to take the pass and leave without another thought. After all, Snape was telling him to go. Who would blame him if he did? Certainly not the professor, though one could never tell with Snape.

Yet, a greater part wanted to press the professor, find out why his words had caused such an extreme reaction in his teacher.

"Sir?"

"I believe you heard me, Potter. This is the only time you will get off so easily." Came the cold reply, in the same strange tone of voice.

Whatever it was, the Gryffindor knew it was bad. "But what is it?"

"Get to your class, Potter!" Severus whirled around and practically threw the boy out with his things and the pass. Slamming the door shut behind Potter, the dark haired professor leaned against the cool wood. "Curse you, Albus."

Harry stood outside the classroom, utter bafflement on his face. It was becoming an all to familiar expression to him when dealing with Snape. Just when he thought he'd figured out the man, he went and threw that idea in his face.

"What was that?" he asked the empty hall, half expecting for an answer. Of course, none came and he went to his next class, hoping that they wouldn't be doing anything important.

His mind was too lost in trying to figure out what was behind the professor's odd and almost irrational behavior. His teacher knew something. But what?

Sitting down next to Ron, he ignored the questioning look. "I'll tell you later," he hissed when Ron continued to stare at him.

Once class had ended, Ron and Hermione cornered him and they snuck outside. "What did the greasy git want?"

"To inform me that he checked my alibi for last night," he mimicked the inflection of the voice perfectly.

Hermione shivered at the imitation. But when she looked at him, it was with a scandalized expression. "Harry, don't do that. Not only is it rude but Professor Snape is your teacher."

"Well, he doesn't act like one," Ron muttered.

"And deserves to have some consideration given him because of that," she went on over the interruption, though she did glare at Ron. "Why would he want to do that? You were in bed before curfew. Weren't you?" she looked at them both suspiciously.

"What?" Ron held up his hands.

"Both of you were in, weren't you?" she asked. "Ron, you told me that you would make sure that Harry got in before to late."

"I thought he was in," he protested.

Harry shook his head, speaking up before they could get into a fight.

It was bad enough they fought over Crookshanks and Scabbers. He really didn't want them to get into a fight over this. It wasn't really worth it. "The thing is, I don't remember what happened after I left Filtch's office."

"What do you mean?" Ron asked.

The Gryffindor shrugged, a helpless look on his face. "I remember leaving my detention and headed for the dorms but I don't know what happened after that. Except for one thing, a kind of siren song calling me _to_ something. Snape acted odd when I told him what I heard the sound of bells. He sent me to class without another word-with a pass."

"Harry, that's not normal. Have you talked to Headmaster Dumbledore?"

"When have I had the time between being yelled at by Snape and classes?" he asked in answer to Hermione's question.

"Don't you think you should?"

His lips twisted in a semblance of a smile. "And what's he going to do? Offer me a lemon drop? No, the answer is in Snape's head."

"How do you propose to find out?"

"I don't know, Hermione," he said. "But there has to be a way."

"Well, I still think you need to talk to the Headmaster, but it's your choice."

"Since when?" he asked rhetorically. "I'm the Boy Who Lived, nothing is my choice."

"Well, now, isn't someone just a wee bit bitter?"

"Shut up, Draco," Ron said.

Harry groaned. "Not now." Getting up, he brushed off his pants and started to walk off towards the school.

"What's the matter, Potter? Too afraid to challenge me, so you have your lackey do it?"

Glancing over his shoulder once, he gestured to Crabbe and Goyle. "If I was, I'd be copying you, now wouldn't I?"

"Think you're clever, do you, Potter?"

"Is there a problem?" a haughty voice asked.

The group of students turned and saw a strange trio standing in the distance. Draco paled, recognizing them. "None," he stammered.

Hermione turned and stared at him, shock. Never had the Gryffindor heard the Slytherin aristocrat stumble or slur his words. She hadn't thought it possible. Yet, as impossible as it seemed, he had done so. Turning back, she tried to study the group.

But it was as though a film had been drawn across her eyes. They couldn't focus on them.

"Then you, Draco Malfoy, will show us to Professor Snape's quarters. You will say nothing about this to anyone. I will not tolerate any questions from you or anyone." The same voice spoke coolly and ordered the third year about with the ease of royalty.

"Of course," he said, jerking his head to indicate that his cronies leave him in peace and he walked to them. "This way."


	6. Severus, What Have You Done?

MoroTheWolfGod: okay. You asked for it.

777

"What was that about?" Ron asked, staring after the strangers. A dumbstruck expression on his face and he turned to face them, noting their looks of puzzlement as well.

"I don't know," Harry softly mused. "Don't you find it odd that Snape would be getting such a visit at the same time I'm experiencing weird black outs?"

"Harry," Hermione warned him, though she included Ron as well. "Remember what happened last time you jumped to conclusions about Professor Snape. You were proven wrong about him trying to steal the Philosopher's Stone and he did try to save you from Quirrell."

Though he sent her a disgusted look, he nodded in consideration of her words. "I'm just saying that it seems more than a little coincidental."

"Harry," Headmaster Dumbledore called from the school's doorway. "May I have a word with you?"

"Of course," he replied. "I'll see you at supper."

Hermione looked at him, an eyebrow raised.

"I'll talk to him," Harry muttered.

Once their friend had left, Ron turned to follow after Draco. "Where do you think you are going?" Hermione asked.

"To find out what Snape's up to, duh." He faced her, a 'what else' expression on his face.

"Ronald Weasley, you most certainly will not." Hermione latched onto his arm and dragged him with her into the school, towards the library. "You will be helping me learn what the significance of bells in the wizarding world is."

He stopped them, breaking free from her light grip. His hands rested on his hips as he glared down to inform her, somewhat haughtily. "Everyone knows that, Hermione. It's quite a common branch of magic in our world."

"Really?" she challenged. "I don't know what you're talking about-and I've read almost every book on magic there is."

"It wouldn't be in a book," he replied.

"Then what is it?" she asked, challenging him.

Ron's eyes rolled heavenward, as though asking for strength. Part of him liked teaching her what he knew. But another part felt frustrated by the necessity. This part of magic was something _every_ child knew.

It was cradle taught.

"Bells are the tools of a necromancer. You know, someone who leads the dead into death and keeps them there," he said, going on thoughtfully after a moment. "Of course, they use other tools now, ones that are less obvious to the untrained eye. It used to be that they walked about with a bandolier and a sword."

The brown eyes went dark as she contemplated the information Ron had provided with what she'd read. "A necromancer? What has that to do with Harry?"

He shrugged, not really that concerned with this situation. "How should I know? After all, it's not a big deal if he's a necromancer. I've known more than a few in my family."

"Harry's your best friend, isn't he?" she pulled him along.

"Of course he is," he snapped.

"Then shouldn't you help him? You need to help me research this. I don't know where to start," she paused, studying him for a moment. "After all, Harry's counting on us. He needs to know what to expect."

"Then why don't I find out what the greasy git's up to while you do the searching?" he suggested, trying to pull free. He was fully aware of Fred and George's laughter in the shadows. Try as he could, he couldn't find out where they were.

He'd need to talk to Ginny later. See if she had any ideas about getting proper revenge on them. Young though she was, she was far more devious than he was. And he knew that she was more than a little annoyed by Fred and George's pranks.

"Because its time you saw more of this school than the classroom, I won't always be available to help him. And you need to stop suspecting a trap every time **_Professor_** Snape is involved," she scolded.

"But he usually **_is_** part of a trap," he objected. But he stopped fighting once they'd passed through the library doors. As scary as Hermione could be, she was nothing compared to the infamous Madame Pince.

The librarian scowled at them as they walked in front of her desk. She did not remove her gaze from them until another student asked for help in a tremulous, halting voice.

Even then, Ron was sure she kept one eagle eye on them.

777

Harry followed Headmaster Dumbledore into his office and took the offered seat. Looking about, he noticed that Fawkes was nowhere to be seen. "Sir?" he asked, wondering where to begin.

Or if he should wait until the headmaster said something.

"Fawkes is visiting Professor Snape at the moment. Something to do with a potion," he replied with a smile. First, he offered him a lemon drop, which was politely refused. "Why does no one ever accept my offer?" he murmured before changing the subject. "Now, do you have anything you wish to share with me?"

So, for the second time that day, Harry told what happened the previous night. Knowing that Dumbledore expected him to be honest, he left nothing out. "Only, this isn't the first time I've experienced this, sir."

"No?" he gently encouraged, sucking on a lemon drop.

Folding his hands in his lap to keep from twisting them into the folds of his cloak, he shook his head. "Every few weeks or so, I find myself wandering off to _something_ that I can't quite define. But it's never been this bad before-I was always able to regain control of myself before to much time had passed."

Dumbledore nodded to show that he was listening to him. Outward, his face showed only a calm expression, but inside he felt a deep uneasiness. This story worried him for it wasn't what he expected to hear, though he had been waiting to hear that he'd started to grow into his mother's heritage.

It was obvious that the young Gryffindor had come into his authority. No one had thought to prepare him for the development of stronger powers than most wizards had. It hadn't been thought of as necessary.

Necromancy develops in wizards the same way as regular magic did, slowly and on an even course. This pattern of magical growth reminded him of something he had heard several years ago. Something that irritated him because what it suggested was impossible.

It mirrored the maturing of a certain young Slytherin's who had had to seek sanctuary among them because the maturation process had been so quick. This level of power Harry possessed was on a level higher than anyone in his father and mother's lines.

In fact, this level of ability existed only in Severus Snape's family line.

And there was a fly in that particular theory.

Everyone knew that the Potters and Snapes were related in some fashion. But that knowledge was buried so far back in the past that no one could faithfully trace them. Their families, unlike other pureblood families, was unusual in this manner.

And anyway, he didn't think that such a distant link would affect the lines of magical inheritance-especially since he knew the truth.

Moreover, magical heritage didn't work that way.

Magic passed directly from the parent to child. Even squibs possessed a hint of the magical powers of their parents, contrary to popular teaching. Not a lot of it, that was true, but enough that it was within them. For they saw things in the magical world as they were. Not the illusion that fooled the eyes of the muggles.

"Headmaster?" Harry stopped speaking, worried by the look on his face. It seemed to be a combination of fear and calm acceptance. The Gryffindor didn't think he'd ever seen such an expression before.

Shaking himself from his troublesome thoughts, he smiled genially. "You were right to tell me, Harry, but it does pose quite a few questions about some things I've been pondering."

"What things?" he asked.

"Nothing that concerns you right now, Harry. How would you feel about private lessons?"

"Private lessons?" he parroted. "Why? With who?" The question was needless. Harry knew that there was only one person that Dumbledore would trust to teach him privately, though he still didn't know why.

Snape.

"To prepare you for your future," he replied, a strange smile on his normally warm face. "Go on, see your friends, and think on it. I don't expect you to make this decision now. It would, of course, involve you dropping a few of your extra-curricular activities in order to make room for them."

With those words and an absent pat on his back, Harry found himself escorted out the door and into the hall. Dazedly, he watched as Dumbledore simply disappeared from the hallway, leaving him standing alone.

A chill wind blew by him and he shivered in the breeze. Not for the first time did he wish that he truly possessed the gift of prophecy. There was something within the deep recesses of his mind that let him know that danger was coming.

A danger that not even Voldemort would be expecting.


	7. Where The Devil Did That Come From?

Hagrid made his way through the Forest alone. Earlier he'd received a message from the centaurs asking him to come to them. May be they had news of the trapper. Having gone on a fruitless search for more traps, he'd let them now. Taking care to make sounds, he walked softly to the meeting place, keeping an eye out for anything unusual in the hedges. Though he doubted he'd find any more traps, he kept looking for them.

"Hagrid," one of the centaurs came forward and greeted him.

The half-giant nodded and stood, waiting for a sign of what they wished of him.

777

Remus rolled over. He felt restless in side of in the infirmary. Yet, he couldn't bring himself to leave. Grey eyes stared blankly at the wall. It didn't help still the thoughts in his mind, though it was something.

Now that the pain had receded somewhat, he could think about what he'd learned from the headmaster's visit. His mind spinning with the implications of what he heard, he felt that he couldn't breath. Severus Snape had taught his class.

Snape, the potions master who wanted his job even though it was obvious to everyone where his real talents were.

The Professor who knew what he was and had every reason to tell the students the truth.

Well, right or wrong, Snape thought there was a reason to tell and when Snape held onto an idea like that, nothing short of death would pull it free. Remus wasn't sure even death would do it. The Slytherin was stubborn.

Groaning, he closed his eyes and moved. A sharp twinge hit him and he waited, panting until the pain faded away a bit. He couldn't understand what was going with his body. Never before had he had such an adverse reaction to the potion before.

In the back of his mind, he couldn't help but wonder what he was going to face in his classroom. Students eager for learning, ready for what he had to teach them.

Or a classroom full of students who feared for their lives and cowered, wondering when he would change and lash out at them.

It was something to look forward to tomorrow, he thought with a sardonic twist of his lips.

777

"Well? What did the headmaster have to say to you?" Ron pounced on him the moment he entered the Common Room.

Sighing, he went upstairs and flopped onto the bed. Flinging his arm up, he covered his eyes to block out the light. Ron followed him, asking questions non-stop until Harry resigned himself to speaking. "Just asked me about how I felt about taking some private lessons in preparation for the future."

"We're in our third year," Ron protested, sitting down. "Why would you want to be thinking about the future now?"

Taking a moment to move his arm, the boy glared at his friend. "Because of Voldemort is still out there and I will have to fight him one day. Will you two stop shuddering whenever I say his name? I refuse to call him by that ridiculous moniker he's got in this world." He added, noticing Hermione in the doorway.

"Harry's right, Ron." Hermione said quietly, cradling Crookshanks in her arms.

"You get that bloody cat out of here. He almost ate Scabbers." Grateful as he said the words that Scabbers was with Neville and his toad. Of all the things he needed, a frightened rat was not on of them.

"Oh, stop it," she frowned at him. "Crookshanks wouldn't try to eat your rotten, old, scabby rat for any reason. He's probably feeling neglected and is framing my cat in an attempt to get your attention."

"Don't be so stupid, Hermione. Scabbers is a Gryffindor rat," he denied hotly. "He wouldn't do something so, so Slytherin."

"Real mature, Ron. I can't believe you said that."

"Well believe it because I did," he replied snarkily.

Ignoring him, she turned to Harry. "We went to the library after you and the headmaster left and looked into a few things. Weasley here thinks that you have a touch of the necromancer about you."

"Necromancer?" he repeated. "What's that mean?"

"It means that you are stronger than the normal wizard," she started.

"That's just great," he moaned, burying his face again. "My wizarding powers are like me, unnatural. Just once I'd like to be _normal_."

"Actually, Harry, they are normal for a wizard of your bloodline. We have quite a few necromancers in my family. It isn't a big deal," Ron offered cheerfully.

His mumbled voice reached their ears. "Ron, don't help."

Instead of being offended by this remark, he cheekily smiled at Hermione. "See? He doesn't want me to look through books for him. I told you he'd want me to check out the strangers who went to see Snape."

This reminded brought Harry out of his funk and he looked at them expectantly. "What did they want with the greasy git?"

"Professor Snape," Hermione corrected sharply. Putting Crookshanks down, she folded her arms across her chest and glared at them. "Really, boys, we are in our third year. We should act accordingly."

"Whatever," Ron muttered, waving her words off. "She wouldn't let me follow them to find out what was going on. Said I'd be more help to you by looking for stuff in the library."

"Hermione," Harry semi-whined. "How could you? This was the perfect chance to find out what Snape knows about what's happening to me."

She sniffed. "Excuse me for trying to help you out. I thought that having someone else around here who knows how to _read_ and _search_ for clues would be more beneficial in the long run than spying on a teacher."

"That's not what I meant," he started.

Hermione was not in the mood to hear it. The Gryffindor turned on her heels and stormed out of the room. Crookshanks hissed and followed her, tail in the air.

Ron sighed. "That cat is a bloody nightmare-and Hermione isn't acting any better."

"Ron," Harry said, and then sighed. "Oh, why bother."

777

"Severus, we may have developed a problem."

"With?" she absently asked, stirring the potion counter-clockwise. It was almost finished and could sit for a bit, she thought. Fawkes chirped a greeting, settling back down on his perch with a slight sigh. "As if I need to ask?"

"This is important," Albus stated.

"Anything having to do with the famous Mister Harry 'The Boy Who Lived' Potter always takes precedence over everything else," she drawled. Nevertheless, she put away her work and turned to face him.

"Severus," Albus warned. "Do not push me. I have heard the most distressing thing."

"He's come into his _necromancy_ heritage before anyone expected? Though not as early as I did," she guessed.

Albus' eyes narrowed as he stared at her while she cleaned a seat for him in the room. "You knew of this?" he questioned, not sitting down just yet.

The professor sighed. "When he told me of hearing the bells, I surmised what was happening to him. I don't know why you are so surprised, you were the only one of us who was expecting something like this."

"Wrong," he corrected as he moved to the seat. In unison, they sat down. "I thought that he would develop along the same time line his mother had."

"Ah, but Lily did not have a Dark Lord forcing her to mature magically," she pointed out.

"You think that is the true?" he asked. "You don't think that there is the slightest chance that there is a different reason for his magical growth spurt?"

"What other reason could there be?"

Instead of answering her, he asked her a question. "Tell me, how close is your family line to that of the Potters?"

"What kind of question is that? You know the answer already."

"And the Evans family?" he pressed.

"We aren't related at all."

"You are absolutely sure of that? Could you tell me in perfect honesty that you are not related to Lily Evans?" he pushed her to think about it.

She paused, giving his question the thought it obviously deserved. "To the best of my knowledge, Lily and I are related only through our shared magical gift. There is the minutest possibility that we are related by blood, though I doubt that."

The headmaster was silent, staring at his potions professor and debating with himself. "Did you and Mr. Potter have a relationship before his marriage to Lily? Or after?"

"We were colleagues. That was the extent of our relationship," she sneered. "What is this about, Headmaster?"

Holding her eyes to emphasize the gravity of what he was about to ask, he waited. When he was sure Severus was giving him her full attention, he asked in a quiet voice, with no inflection. "Is Harry Potter is your son?"


	8. The Secret's Out

Minister Fudge sat at his desk, reading the papers he'd been given before signing the appropriate ones. They were the usual type of paperwork for a man in his position and he almost regretted having this job.

It didn't last long.

A knock on the door and he called out, "Enter!"

"Minister Fudge," the woman greeted him. She was a tall, plump woman with dark gray hair cut short. Eyes the color of molasses coolly stared down at him, giving no indication as to her true thoughts about him.

"Arpai," he nodded. "What news?"

"We've seen no sigh of Sirius Black," she told him. "But there was some kind of disturbance at Hogwarts yesterday."

"So?" he asked. "There are many disturbances at Hogwarts. Headmaster Dumbledore keeps reminding me that it is a school full of high spirited children."

Her full lips compressed but she refrained from glaring at him. "Be that as it may, I doubt that the children brought in a bear trap. One was found in the Forbidden Forest yesterday by a Professor Snape." She elaborated, noting that some interest finally entered the minister's eyes. "The professor has also acquired a dog. This dog was found in the trap."

"Meaning?" he asked. Knowing that there had to be a point to this dog reference, though it seemed to be taking a while to get to it.

"We have come across a notation that Sirius Black is an unregistered animagus," she said.

"Really?" Now, the interest turned into sharp hunger. A hunger for the acclaim he would receive upon the recapture of Sirius Black.

"Indeed," she said. "It appears that he is a dog."

"Any way we can connect Professor Snape with the escape of Black?" he asked. That was another man he wanted hidden away from the public eye. Severus Snape had eluded his grasp once before, helped by Dumbledore's word that he had always been on their side.

Spy or not, the facts were clear. Severus Snape was a Death Eater. If he could prove that he had helped Black escape from Azkaban, he could get them both locked away. And guarantee a re-election.

She shook her head. "Sorry, sir. All sources prove the deep and abiding hatred that exists between Black and Snape. In fact, back in their fifth year, Black almost killed Snape."

"How?"

"A boating accident while gathering ingredients for a potion," she replied, her notes. "The class was separated out into groups of four, two Slytherins and two Gryffindors in every team. Professor Snape had never gotten along with Sirius Black or any of his friends. He found himself on a team with Black and another friend, a Professor Lupin. A very bad combination, I'm sure you will agree."

"Obviously," he murmured. "What happened?"

"When asked, Black claimed that the boat tipped over," she said. "Both Snape and Lupin nearly drowned. Headmaster Dumbledore rescued both of them."

Fudge let out the breath he'd been unconsciously holding. "I'll go to Hogwarts tomorrow and talk to Headmaster Dumbledore, find out what I can. If the dog is Black, the Headmaster will know. Thank you, Arpai. You may go home now."

She nodded and left him alone. _Will he tell you_? she mused once the door had closed behind her. Personally, she doubted the Minister would find out what he wanted to know. Publicly, she would support his decision and not allow any dissention.

777

"The third door down this hall is Professor Snape's," Draco informed them.

"That will be all," the leader of the trio dismissed him.

Nodding, he left. A part of him felt he should run ahead of the group and warn his professor about them. Yet he knew instinctively that he'd never make it.

That trio would strike him down before he got more than a step in front of them.

"And Malfoy, do not tell your father." The voice followed him down the hall.

The young Slytherin shivered hearing it.

"You have had your second warning."

Stopping, he turned to face the strange eyes. They looked right through him, piercing him.

"I only give two warnings-and only because I have been ordered to do so."

Swallowing audibly, he nodded and ran down the hall.

"I'm impressed," another voice spoke approvingly. It was the first time any of the other companions spoke and it chilled Draco to hear the voice. At least the leader's voice was somewhat friendly. This one sounded as though Hell would be too cold for him. "I didn't think you had it in you anymore."

A slow smile crawled its way across the inhuman face. Whether because of the compliment or the satisfactory reaction from Draco, it didn't matter in the end. That smile was spoke volumes on its own. "Just because I chose not speak so, does not mean that I have forgotten how to." It was slightly reproachful.

Approaching the door, the being rested its palm across it before swiping it hard and deep across the grain.

777

Severus entered her quarters and sat on the chair by the fireplace, ignoring the dog for the moment. Rubbing a hand over her face, she sighed and relaxed back into the cushions. The day had been a complete waste as far as she was concerned.

And that ridiculous idea he spouted about Potter's power had not improved her mood any.

The dog watched warily from his place on the cot across from the chair. This was the first moment he had had to observe his savior. What he saw puzzled him. There was a strange sense of odd magic about Snape.

An older, more ancient magic than he'd ever felt before. Deadly and beautiful at the same time, and he shivered to feel it.

After a moment, the professor leaned forward and, placing her hands on her legs, pushed herself up. Walking over to the cupboard, she withdrew a vial. "Time for your medicine, dog. I suppose I should name you seeing as how you'll be here for a while. What name do you want?"

The dog seemed to grimace, though he accepted the offered medicine, not really listening to the professor's mutterings. Though he did acknowledge the question of name, he was not planning to stay long enough to become comfortable with this person.

He could not deny his curiosity about the room, though.

Curious eyes looked about the room, taking in everything at a glance and making a few judgments about the person who lived there. Whether it was the medicine or the false sense of safety, the dog had lost much of his wariness when it came to Snape.

A definite Spartan feel existed in the furniture and color, all angles and harsh lines. Only the necessities were kept, while anything deemed extraneous was done away with. The room was empty of a sense of life; it lacked that certain warmth that breathed of pleasure.

It seemed rather sad to the animal who had been expecting something more. May be not color or family portraits, but some creature comforts at the very least. What it said was that his benefactor was a single minded, independent person who found little joy in life.

How could anyone live like this?

A scratch at the door caught Snape's ear and she turned, puzzled. "Who is it?"

"Abhorsen. Let me in."

The dark eyes widened and she gestured something the dog didn't quite catch. But the door opened and three animals entered the room. The white cat walked with royal tread that was matched by the black cat. Behind them, a waist high, fierce, and ugly looking dog followed.

"Mogget, what brings you here? And addressing me thusly?" Severus asked. The huge dog stopped, his thumping tail demanding her attention. "Hello, Disreputable Dog. How be ye?"

"I be vera well. How be ye?"

"Bin better," she shrugged. "How are you, Kerrigor?"

The black cat sniffed in her general direction and waltzed over to the couch, jumping up onto the cushion disdainfully. He then proceeded to clean his paws and dismissed them from mind entirely.

Turning to Mogget, she raised an eyebrow in query. The white cat looked back at her, ignoring the question and stared at the bandaged dog. "What is _he_ doing here?"

"The dog? He was injured by a trap in the forest," Severus answered, confused. "Hagrid would've taken him in but feared that Fang would not allow him to heal."

The cat sniffed, "_that_ is Sirius Black."

Severus leaped away from the dog and removed her wand, training it on him. "Black," she hissed, voice alive with hatred. "What game are you playing now?"

Knowing that the charade was over even before it had truly begun, he made the difficult transition from dog to man. Because of his wounds, it was a difficult change but he managed to pull it off. "Snape," he greeted warily.

Speaking the name unleashed many of his locked memories, chiefly those in regards to this person. Black eyes narrowed in remembered hatred and he glared.

A glare that was turned upon him with an equal amount of revulsion.

"Black," the reply was as cold as his had been.


	9. Speak Now Or I Will Kill You

"What now?" he asked, tired of the standoff they'd been engaged in for the past few minutes.

"Now, you will give me one good reason not to summon the dementors to take you away," she kept her wand trained firmly on the dog.

"You are a perfectionist and calling them would destroy all of your careful work." He tried to appeal to Snape's considerable ego, knowing that in this case, it probably wouldn't work.

"Not good enough, you traitorous murderer," her voice hissed around the room.

"I didn't kill those people, it was Pettigrew."

"You expect me to believe that?" Severus scoffed, eyes cold as they stared at him.

"Snape, this is **_me_** we're talking about. You know the way I work. Was that my style?" Black burst out, exasperated with this whole thing. Of all people in the world, surely _Snape_ would recognize the truth when he heard it.

His old school rival was anything but slow when it came to him. Too much of the studying they'd actually done in school related to each other, though that wasn't to say that they slacked off school work.

No, they had been far from lazy in doing their class work. After all, if they had to play catch-up with that, they never would've been able to torture each other.

The wand wavered before being slowly lowered and Sirius carefully let out the breath he'd been holding.

Merlyn, but Black was right. There were only two people who knew how he acted. One had been the target of every joke and jibe the Gryffindor could come up with.

And the other one was dead.

Severus' head shook regretfully. "Well, I never really believed that the Dark Lord would be stupid enough to enlist you. You're too charismatic for him, to dangerous to his desire to be the only real power in the world. But that doesn't explain what you are doing here"

"That betraying rat is here," he snarled out an explanation, not willing to risk Snape turning him in. Which was still an option, though the Slytherin had surprised him by listening to his reason. "Pettigrew is an animagus. He's the rat that Weasley calls his own."

Severus put away her wand, though Mogget hissed in displeasure. But she couldn't hold him prisoner when she knew he was telling the truth. She hated knowing that he was being honest with her "Fine. But what are you doing _here_?"

"I'm going to kill him," he answered bluntly.

"And then what?" she asked, an eyebrow was raised in question.

"When the Ministry sees his body, they'll know the truth. I will be a free man. Then, I can raise Harry as James always intended."

"You dunderhead. Do you honestly think the Ministry will admit its error and let you go?" she asked witheringly.

"They'd have to when they have the proof before their eyes," he protested.

"Oh, you poor, naïve fool. Just what I expect from a Gryffindor," she scoffed. "Fudge will _never_ admit his error. He's to dependent upon the public's opinion of him to try to redress the wrong done you."

"So, what? I should do nothing?"

"Let me think about this, Black," she scowled at him. "There has to be another solution besides you resorting to murder, though that seems to be your main recourse of action when something disturbs you."

"For the last time, Snape, I didn't try to kill you. It was an accident."

"An accident that would have cost me my life-and Lupin his." Though the words were said it went unspoken that Snape could care less what happened to the wolf.

"I know that," he shouted.

"To bad you didn't know it then," she retorted.

He bit his tongue to keep from lashing out. Right now, as much as it galled him to admit it and accept it, Snape was his only help. There would be a heavy price to pay for letting the git help him. But there was no other choice.

Remus might listen to him if he could see him but he'd have to run the risk of getting caught in order to talk him. Even if he didn't get caught, his old friend might not listen to him. He hadn't exactly trusted him when his name had been mentioned as another secret keeper.

And he couldn't ask Snape to invite him down here. There was no reason the git would allow them to meet in his quarters. For obvious reasons, the classrooms and office were not a choice.

Compassion was a word Snape only knew because it was in the dictionary.

A thought occurred to him. "What about the dementors? They are patrolling the school, aren't they?"

"Scared, Black?" she jeered.

"Aren't you?" he shot back.

"Not of them," she replied, meeting his eyes evenly. "I give you my word, Black, you are as safe as you choose to be. Don't do anything stupid, by that I mean act like yourself, and no harm will come to you."

"You are enjoying yourself, aren't you?"

"With you here?" she questioned, turning away from him. "The second worst enemy I ever had is laid bare before me. He has to beg me, _me_, not turn him into the Ministry or hand him over to the dementors. I hold your life in the palm of my hand and you ask if I am enjoying myself. What do you think?"

"You're right, for once. What was I thinking?"

She smirked, watching him. "You can do that and not get hurt? I'm shocked."

"Don't get to full of yourself, Snape. Once this mockery is over, I intend to reclaim my life-and make you pay."

"Turning into Voldemort, Black?"

"Don't you **_DARE_** compare me to that creature."

"Or you'll what?" she challenged. "Think carefully about your words, Black, think about them very carefully."

His mouth shut tightly.

"See? You are learning."

"Abhorsen," Mogget warned, climbing up and sitting on her shoulder. "Send him away. He has no business being here."

"Mogget, do not press me about this," she sternly warned. "I gave my word when he was only a sick dog that he would be safe here. That I would see to it that he healed before I released him, would you have me revoke my promise?"

"This is a mistake, Abhorsen. But you will do as your ancestors have done. No matter how misguided it is." The displeasure of the cat filled the room with its strength.

"And you will continue to be as disapproving as you always are. What is wrong?"

Sniffing dismissively, Kerrigor spoke for the first time. "Send the criminal to bed. We will talk later."

"I may have escaped from prison but I am no criminal!"

"Shut up, Black," Severus tiredly said. Her head pounding a repetitious beat steadily in her skull. "Come along," she invited, ignoring the mutinous look on his face.

777

"Poppy, would you help me solve a mystery?"

The medi-witch let him into her office and shut the door. "Sounds serious, what is it about?"

"Severus Snape and Harry Potter," he bluntly told her.

"There is no mystery there, Headmaster. Both express a distinct lack of liking for the other," she shook her head.

"And the strong abilities of a necromancer," he interpolated his words into the conversation.

Her hand rose, resting momentarily on her throat. Rising, she went to a cabinet and pulled out a few files. Interpreting his look, she explained. "These are Mister Harry Potter's files, as well as those of Lily Evans and James Potter's. This one is Severus Snape's, though there are a few discrepancies I can't quite figure out how they got in there. If there is a solution to this problem, it should be in here."

"Thank you," he absently said, already busy with the folder for Severus.

777

"You let them escape and did not follow them to the _Abhorsen_?" a voice harshly demanded of the quivering form.

The wraith nodded miserably.

"I told you to let them go and keep on their trail. What happened?"

"They were aware," he finally replied.

The eyes narrowed. "Then I find that I have no further use for you." No sooner said than done, the wraith was destroyed. "I will find you, _Abhorsen_, and when I do, nothing shall resist my will again."


	10. The Past Is A Devil

Hagrid left the clearing, knowing that he had to talk to Headmaster Dumbledore. The things he'd heard from Chiron's lips disturbed him. It was what he'd been specifically told to watch for.

Severus Snape was in mortal danger from an old foe without protection.

Headmaster Dumbledore was not going to be happy.

777

The next morning, Severus awoke earlier than was her wont. She left Sirius and the various animals sleeping in their places, undisturbed by her leaving. Though she knew that Mogget had peered at her as she left, that particular being never rested deeply.

And was more suspicious than Severus could manage any day.

The night had been restless and uncomfortable for the professor, her thoughts leaving her no amount of peace. There could only be one reason for Mogget to address her by that name. _Abhorsen_.

The calling and birthright of every Snape since the Potter family had called them into this world to handle a problem they had caused. Their abnormality had not been discovered because Saorise Potter had claimed them as family.

She snorted. Family? No, as Albus knew full well, the Snapes and Potters went far back into the past. They were not related, not by blood at least. But the story had worked, so they stuck to it. After all, who wanted to taint the family name with the black magic they employed to _call_ them.

On a more facetious front, the couch was the most uncomfortable piece of furniture ever created.

She didn't know why she bothered to keep the thing, except for the fact that one of her possible grandmothers had left it to her. It always came back no matter how far she threw it. Merlyn knew, she had tried. There had been no other choice when they made the sleeping arrangements.

Though it vexed her to give up her bed to that _cretin_, anything less would inhuman. For he could not transform back into a dog, his injuries had been hard enough to surmount when he had done so the night before. Continuing to try almost undid all of her hard work.

Something that she would not tolerate, if it did mean that she was protecting her enemy from his rash behavior.

Black was right.

She shuddered as she thought those words. It was so _wrong_ to think like that, that Black was right about something, even if it was reality.

Severus Snape was a born perfectionist. There really was no other excuse for the way she harbored that mutt under the circumstances. By rights, she should've turned him over to the dementors and been done with him.

Yet she couldn't, any more than she could stop protecting young Potter from his foibles.

Another thankless task indeed and one made more complicated by the fact that Dumbledore was asking her to teach him the older ways of magic.

Giving the Potter brat the secrets of ancient magic was just asking for trouble. Considering his father's past with enchantment, the past of the whole Potter family for that matter, it was not a good idea.

That whole family had a mindset that was too risky and hotheaded for handling such intoxicating magic. To potent for one with his temperament and judgment, the boy knew _nothing_ of caution or prudence. He would do what he did now and trust in his luck to pull him through any trouble.

An incautious and _stupid_ thing it would be to rely upon that providence alone, yet that boy did so repetitiously. He had a cat's own brand of fortune when it came to landing on his feet-as he had shown in his past adventures.

What else was the professor to do? Severus knew she owed her life-nay, her soul, to the interference of Dumbledore. If teaching the boy the old ways was the way to repay him, then that is what she would do.

And may Merlyn have mercy on them all.

777

Albus and Poppy looked at each other. "It isn't here, Albus. Severus is most likely right, he's maturing because of the Dark Lord chasing him."

"May be the both of you are correct and I am seeing shadows that don't exist. Unless," he trailed off, eyes fogging up as he thought. It couldn't be possible. James Potter wouldn't be so stupid as to invoke that.

Would he?

"Unless what?" she asked.

"Excuse me, Poppy. What was that you said?"

"I asked unless what," she answered.

"It's nothing," he stood up. "Just an old man's musings. Thank you, Poppy. Shall I help you replace these?"

Shaking her head, she watched him go, a curious look on her face. Once he was gone, she allowed herself the luxury of voicing her thoughts. "Severus, you devil. What have you gone and done now?"

Of course, there was no answer for her question. She hadn't been expecting one anyway, though hoping for on.

Stifling a yawn, Dumbledore headed to the Great Hall, shaking his head a bit. Knowing he was on to something. He had been right, there was a connection of blood between Harry and Severus. Just not the one he'd been thinking about and really, he should've been expecting it.

_James Potter, you sly devil_, he thought enviously. _I couldn't have done better myself if I tried._

777

"Severus!" Minerva called out. "What have you done to Professor Lupin?"

"Absolutely nothing, besides what I am requested to," Severus stated blandly. Dark armed sleeves crossed as a contemptuous sneer crossed the professor's face. "Why? What have you been hearing? Besides the usual gossip and chicanery that encircles my life and all its nefarious doings?"

"This is no joking matter," she repressively said, staring into the dark eyes evenly. "Remus has called me and asked me to teach his class. He finds that he is unable to do so. If I had to wager a guess, I would say that the poor man is afraid to do so. What did you do?"

"I assure you, Minerva, that I have not seen Professor Lupin since I…" the words trailed off as the potions master became aware of the students listening avidly. "Do you mind? There are classes today, if I am not mistaken. Go before I start deducting points."

Both were silent, watching the kids scurry away as if the very hounds of Hell had been loosed upon them, before they walked away. "Severus, must you treat them like that?" she asked, shaking her head in dismay and good humor. "They are merely being curious."

"Serves the brats right," was the swift reply. "They should not have been eavesdropping on our conversation. Curiosity has its place, that I freely admit to. But this conversation was not for their ears and we should not forget that. As well as the fact that this is a house of learning, not one of spying."

"Something you have intimate knowledge in?" She asked, shutting the door behind them.

"Minerva," the reply was bit off. "I do not understand Professor Lupin's reluctance to rise from the hospital bed. I only saw him when I gave him the potion. I do not make a habit of visiting people in the Infirmary."

"What did you teach in his class?"

Sighing, Severus stared out the window. "We played a game of Wizard Trivial Pursuit, not that it is any concern of yours."

"Really? Who won?"

"The Granger/Zabini team," the reply was dry.

"You had mixed teams? Severus, are you feeling quite the thing?"

"I am fine," it was spoke through clenched teeth. "The charter that I signed binds me to obey the rules set down by each individual teacher. Thus, when I taught your class five years ago so that you could see your daughter give birth, I could not hex the students."

"Oh, that's right. The Board of Directors insisted on that, though no one has had to sign such a binding contract for several years."

"Since the last Snape taught here three hundred and twenty two years ago," Severus informed her. "It was something that Professor Potter argued had to be done."

"Will you at least go and see Remus? Find out what is wrong and reassure him that all is well with his class," she asked. When her companion's mouth opened to object, she smoothly added. "It could also be a problem with the potion. You wouldn't want to be accused of gross negligence, would you?"

"Very well, I shall see the Professor."

"Soon?"

"As soon as I leave your office and retrieve something from my quarters. If the potion is behind this illness, I will need to find out where it has gone wrong. He has been taking it for several months and has shown no signs of illness," Severus wandered off, thinking about the problem.

Minerva smiled smugly to herself. It was so easy to play Severus once you had the right key to how the professor worked. And that key was the notorious perfectionist in Snape. She wondered if he was aware of how many people knew it-and used it.


End file.
